Goodbye Spike
by pepperlandgirl
Summary: Buffy searches for a way to say goodbye to Spike. Will they ever say hello?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Goodbye Spike

Spoilers: After Chosen

Summary: Buffy struggles to find a way to say goodbye. 

"We should have a funeral for them," Andrew announced suddenly. In the sleepy darkness, his voice was loud and alien and made them all jump. "I mean," he went on to explain, "it might help. We had a funeral for Warren, even though we didn't have a body, and it gave us a chance…"

"Oh god," Willow choked out, cutting off Andrew's rambling. "Oh god." 

"What's wrong?" Kennedy asked.

"Tara," Willow whimpered. "Tara is back there…" 

Buffy kept her eyes carefully trained on the cars in the next lane. She didn't want to look at or talk to anybody. She wanted to be alone. But as Willow's sobs rose into the air, her own tears clogged her throat. 

"Mom is back there too," Dawn whispered. "Mom is back there too. All her stuff, in the house…" 

There hadn't been any real tears up to this point. They were all focused on their injuries, on their exhaustion, on simply surviving and making it to LA. Giles sat in the front of the bus with Wood and Faith, working out plans for the immediate future. Xander looked like he was asleep, but over the muffled sobs of Willow and Dawn, Buffy could hear his tears as well. 

"Anyway," Andrew continued, seemingly oblivious to the pain his suggestion caused, "we should have a funeral to remember Anya…and Spike." 

"Buffy?" Dawn asked softly, "Can you tell us what happened?" 

Buffy shook her head. A funeral? A funeral for Spike? Can you have a funeral without a body? She wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to be able to keep it together for much longer. 

"Maybe when we get to LA," Andrew finished. 

"It's a good idea," Xander's voice, deep, husky, thick with pain. 

The newly made slayers remained silent, either asleep or unsure of what they should add to the discussion. 

"We'll do it when we get there," Buffy intoned. Please, please don't make me talk right now. I can't bear it right now. 

They could have a funeral for Anya, Buffy decided, but not for Spike. It wouldn't be appropriate. They would just get in a fight, they wouldn't understand that she needed time to mourn him. They wouldn't understand why she needed time to mourn him. 

They all lapsed into silence, and soon even the broken sounds escaping Willow slowed, but didn't stop. Buffy could hear Xander's breathing slow, and one by one, they all fell asleep. She was almost asleep herself when Xander sat down on the seat next to her. 

"Buff? You awake?" 

"I am, Xander. What's up?" 

"I was just wondering if you want to talk." 

"I'm fine, Xan. How are you?"

"I don't think it's sunk in yet that I won't see her anymore. I mean, she's _Anya_, over 1000 years old. She's not supposed to be gone."

"I know how you feel."

"Buffy…I don't know how to say this exactly."

"Words are good." 

"About Spike…"

"I don't want to hear about it, Xander." She cut him off sharply, her voice more abrupt and cold than she meant. It didn't stop her friend from continuing though. 

"About Spike, I know that you felt something for him…and I haven't always been the most supportive friend."

"I love him," Buffy said softly. 

Xander nodded, "Yeah, yeah I know. That's why it's ok to cry, Buff. Nobody is going to think less of you." 

"You would have before." 

"We were wrong. I get that now. I want to help you. Maybe we can help each other." 

One cold tear, then another, fell from her eyes. "I've loved him for a long time," she confessed. "I fought it and him, but I loved him. And when I told him, he…"

"He what?" Xander prompted gently. 

"He didn't believe me," she choked out. The memory of his words _No you don't_ caused new waves of pain to roll through her body. _No you don't_. 

Xander didn't know how to respond to that. Spike finally heard the one thing he always wanted to hear, and he dismissed it? Why? What could have possessed Spike to say something that cruel to the woman who just bared her heart to him? 

"He's wrong though," she added. "He's wrong."

"I know, Buffy." 

"I don't want to talk about it right now." 

"Ok, I'll be here when you do." 

Buffy appreciated the effort Xander made, and knew that he needed support from her. But she just couldn't give it, she barely had enough strength for herself. She offered Xander a water smile, and hoped that he would understand. He nodded and moved back to his own seat, leaving her alone. 

A funeral. The thought won't leave Buffy's head. Anya needed a funeral. She deserved a memorial. She deserved a grave. She deserved better than she got. A funeral for Amanda would be good too. She died right in front of Buffy, her large eyes open, staring straight ahead into empty nothingness. Spike was looking ahead too, into some unknown world, right before he died. 

Died. Spike died. Dead. No more Spike. Gone. Forever. No matter how many times Buffy repeated the words to herself, she still couldn't quite believe it. Maybe that's why they couldn't have a funeral for him. Because it's not like he was really _gone_ was it? Of course not. Anya was really gone, the slayers were really gone, but Spike? He'll be back. 

Willow was still making choking half-sobs, and suddenly, Buffy was furious. Anger eclipsed sorrow and pain, and she wanted to injure something, or someone. How could Willow sit there and sob because she lost the grave of someone she loved, but couldn't even spare a word to Buffy? How could Willow sob like she lost _anything_? She had her time to mourn, didn't she? She had a new girlfriend, didn't she? She wasn't _alone_. How could she be so selfish? 

It occurred to Buffy that if they did have a funeral for Spike, they would probably all be on their best behavior. They would probably pretend to be sorry he died. They would all pretend to understand and offer her what support they could. And that would be even worse than if they acted cold and uncaring, because hey, at least then they would be honest. 

She could always have her own memorial service for him. Something small, quiet, and simple. A good-bye, that wasn't really a good-bye because how can you say good-bye to _Spike_? Where did he even go? 

Oh God, where did he even _go?_ Buffy had just assumed that since he saved the world, closed the Hellmouth, probably destroyed the hell dimension and had a soul, he would go to Heaven. But there was no way to know for sure, and it's not even like Buffy understood how all that worked. Who gets to decide where people go when they die? What if he was in Hell? What if his great reward for saving the Earth was to be tortured for Eternity?

She felt absolutely sick at the thought. All he wanted to do was rest. He _deserved_ to rest. Buffy looked out to the window, to the stars as if they held an answer. And maybe they did. Looking at them, she realized they were the same stars that lit Spike's path for over a century. She knew that he used to lie on the roof of his crypt and stare up at the sky, looking for something it seemed. Maybe if Buffy looked hard enough, she could find what he was searching for. 

Maybe he already found it. He felt it, he said so. He felt his soul, and how could he feel his soul if he was going to hell? No, he was resting. She had to believe that, because if she didn't she would lose the tenuous grip she had on her grief, and it would consume her. 

Perhaps a small, quiet funeral under his stars, lit only by the moon would be appropriate. At the crater. She would come back to the remains Sunnydale first chance she got, and she would tell him goodbye. Alone. Because they would never understand. She only barely understood herself. They wouldn't understand that they weren't really there to say _goodbye_. Because you can't say goodbye to _Spike_. 


	2. Hello Buffy

Title: Hello Buffy

Spoilers: After Chosen

Summary: Spike struggles to find a way to say hello. 

Spike spent most of Saturday and all of Sunday in Angel's office, staring blankly at the phone. Her cell phone number crumpled in his hand, his eyes vacant, his mind working a mile a minute. 

Call her? What could he possibly say? _Hey love, guess who?_ Or,_ Hey pet, guess we have yet another thing in common_. Or his personal favorite, _That heaven, it's some place isn't it? _

Angel told him that she would be happy to hear from him. Angel told him that she was traveling all over the world looking for new Slayers and baking, whatever the hell that meant. She had called once since Spike's been back, and he could tell from Angel's side of the conversation that she was happy with her new life. She loved seeing the world and training the girls. 

This was probably the happiest she had ever been, Spike knew. So what could he possibly accomplish by calling her? Would it make her even happier to know that he was back somehow, or would it bring back a flood of horrible memories better left alone?

_I love you. No you don't._ Who did he believe? Maybe she did love him, in her own way. But did that mean she needed the added burden he would surely introduce into her life? But God, he missed her. He missed everything about her, but it was her smile he missed most of all. Those final nights before he died, she had smiled at him often. Who needed heaven when he had that memory? 

It was hard adjusting to this new life…this literally new life. He and Angel had declared an unsteady truce until they got to the bottom of his reappearance, and he was getting along with the rest of Angel's mates. The ex-watcher seemed particularly interested in Spike's experience, his soul, and well, whatever the fuck he was now. Not human, not vampire, not alive, not dead, just sitting in an office with the sun pouring on his face, staring at the phone like it was alive. 

What harm could it do to call her, really? Just a quick "Hey, how ya doing?" He could assure her he was fine in LA, and that he just wanted to say hello, hear her voice. But what good could it do? From the sounds of it, she had made her peace with whatever happened between the two of them, and had moved on.

He remembered how he felt the first time he saw Buffy after she came back. He wanted to sing and shout, thought he was going to explode, happiness and joy, confusion, elation bubbling to the surface. And all he could do was stare at her. What if she only felt confusion, anger that he was back, even resentment? He could not deal with that. He just couldn't. 

More than once, he reached for the receiver. Twice he actually dialed the first three numbers. Once he called the operator just to talk. Angel came in more than once, bringing him food. Spike stopped trying to explain that he wasn't hungry, at all, for anything. Nothing appealed to him, and he couldn't keep anything down. Angel was probably only checking on him. Making sure he didn't steal anything, most likely. 

_Hi, Buffy_. _It's me, I'm well, back. No, I don't know how, and neither does anybody else. I'm here with Angel…I just kinda showed up. No, I don't remember where I was before now, funny init? _

Spike sighed and discarded that speech. He didn't want to lie to her, or make her think she had to rush to LA, or make her think he didn't need her. Fuck. He paced the room, glancing occasionally out the huge windows to downtown LA. Nice place. He wondered if he could walk down those sunny, bustling streets. He hadn't left Wolfram and Hart with their protected windows and ability to cater to his every need. 

It occurred to him that if he wasn't quite a vampire anymore, he _could_ just leave. No need to hang out around here all day. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself. He wouldn't have to put up with Angel, or worry about calling Buffy. He could start an entirely new life for himself somewhere far away. No more demons, no more slayers, no more vampires, no more apocalypses. He could join the nameless, faceless void of humanity, get a little apartment, and read poetry all day. He could probably find a job doing something somewhere. Billions of people survived every day, no reason he couldn't either. 

Spike thought of his century plus of mayhem and murder, and knew that he had atoned for that. Going to Heaven pretty much proved that. He didn't need to continue to fight to seek redemption or anything else. It was entirely possible that he was sent back to Earth to fulfill some role, but nobody bothered to inform of him of what exactly that role was. How could he be expected to do anything more when he was completely ignorant? 

A normal life…the kind that Buffy was always yearning for. Was it so bad that he was tired? Was it so awful that he really had no interest in killing anymore? Was it so terrible that he wanted to lead a quiet life without bloodshed and mayhem? Was it so wrong? 

He sighed, yes it was. He should continue to help, if only because he _could_. He still had his strength, he had his knowledge, he knew what he was doing. Which goes back to the initial question: should he call Buffy? He could offer to help her, or he could stay and help Angel if she wanted. 

_Buffy, I know this is a surprise. Trust me, nobody is more surprised than me. But I showed up in LA a few weeks ago, and well, I thought you might want to know._

Would she? Spike shook his head. The only thing he ever brought her was pain and grief. He died for her so she could _live_ and he would gladly do it again. If it made it easier for her to live without him there, then it was the least he could do. He only wanted to make sure she could live in the world she deserved with the life she wanted, and he had no place in that life. Not now, maybe not ever. 

He dropped her number in the wastebasket by the side of the desk, and gave one last lingering look at the phone. Maybe on day. Maybe never. She had her chance to say goodbye, and it wouldn't be fair to force her to say hello again. 

Spike turned off the light and shut the door behind him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A/N—I guess I'm expanding this story. I didn't plan to originally, but hey, why the hell not? 

Summary: Phone calls and dreams. 

"Did you call her?" Fred asked.

"No." Spike wasn't in the mood for talking, and he kept walking, not bothering to even looking at the girl trailing after him. 

"Why not?" 

Spike didn't answer. He wasn't in the mood to try to explain himself, and didn't feel that he had to. 

"Where are you going?" She asked as he reached the lobby doors.

"Out." 

"Out?" She said the word as though it was completely foreign and had never passed over her lips. "But it's still day light." 

"I don't think it'll hurt."

Fred grabbed his arm and spun him around, surprising both of them with her show of strength. "You are not leaving. We don't know what you _are. The sun could kill you." _

Spike shrugged. "Been dead a few times. S'not so bad." 

"Just…let's go get something to eat," Fred suggested. "A cup of coffee."

"I'm not hungry." Impatience and anger shadowed his voice, and Fred gulped. The last thing she needed was to piss of Spike. Though Angel assured them that Spike was safe, there was still a hard knot of fear in the pit of her stomach every time she got close to him. It wasn't so much that she thought Spike was hurt her, but rather that he represented something…unknown. She couldn't figure him out. He was a mystery. 

"Can't you at least wait for Angel?"

"Angel can't come with me. Why do you care anyway?"

Fred faltered, unsure of how to answer. Spike didn't wait for her to figure it out. Instead, he threw himself on one of the nearby chairs, legs sprawled in front of him, head thrown back. "I'm bloody bored!" He shouted.

Only bored wasn't quite the right word. Restless. He was restless. And confused. And upset. And frustrated. And lost. 

While Spike wasn't paying attention, Fred motioned for the receptionist to call Angel. Within minutes, Angel was making his way through the lobby towards a flustered Fred and a motionless Spike. 

"What are you doing down here?" 

"Leaving," Spike answered without looking up. 

"Did you call her?"

"What bloody business of it is yours?" Spike snarled. 

"You shouldn't leave when the sun is up."

"Yeah, I've been warned." 

"Why didn't you call her?"  
  


Spike jumped up and moved back towards the elevators. The building was huge, with plenty of space and things to do. He could just disappear until Angel lost interest. 

"I asked you a question!" Angel called after him. 

Spike froze and turned around slowly, anger shining brightly in his azure eyes. "I am not one of your lackeys," he said slowly. "I do not work for you. Keep that in mind." 

Angel's only acknowledgement was a slight nod, and Spike moved back towards the elevators. Angel watched him go without stopping him. What a mess.

~*~

Buffy sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath, and reaching for the phone. She didn't notice the tears in her eyes, and she didn't bother to catch her breath before dialing Giles' number. 

"Yes? Yes hello?" Giles greeted, his voice thick with sleep. 

"Giles? I've had that dream again." 

"Do you want me to come over?" He was immediately awake, concern for Buffy outweighing his need for sleep. 

"No, but we're leaving tomorrow."

"Buffy, we can't just pack up and leave like that. We have…"  
  


"Giles," she interrupted, "Willow and Kennedy can handle the girls here. It's time we move on anyway."

"Where are we going, Buffy?"

She paused, her silence all the answer he needed. 

"Buffy, we can't go back to the crater. There's nothing there."

"There _is_," she insisted, "Or I would stop dreaming about it."

"Buffy, the crater was the scene of a horrific battle and loss for all of us. It's natural that it haunts your dreams." 

"What about the other part?"

"Spike? Buffy, it's only natural you dream about him coming back. Didn't you dream about Joyce returning after she died?" 

"Yes," Buffy admitted softly. "But this is different." 

"How?"

"They feel like Slayer dreams." 

Giles sighed, "I usually trust your instincts and dreams, but I think the pain might be a bit too fresh for you to see clearly. Returning to the crater is not going to make this easier on you." 

Buffy didn't feel like arguing, and she didn't bother pointing out that she didn't need Giles' permission to go to the crater, or anywhere else. She called him and informed him of her intentions only as a courtesy, and it wouldn't break her heart if she had to go by herself. It did upset her though that Giles was so willing to brush off her feelings. 

"I'll talk to you tomorrow." She hung up the phone before he could respond. 

Buffy knew it wasn't just grief or pain causing her to be delusional, to have false-hopes. She knew the difference between regular dreams and Slayer dreams, and she knew something felt…off somehow. Like there was something wrong with the Universe, everything was a bit off kilter. She could feel it in her gut. 

  
But she couldn't explain it, so nobody understood it. In Buffy's mind, time had been divided between _then, now, _and the _in-between. __Then Spike was alive, and that had a certain feeling. The __in-between was after Spike sacrificed himself—and it could only be described as an empty time. Everything seemed completely empty, devoid of meaning. __Now was altogether different, and had been for the past six weeks. It was almost as if…But Buffy didn't allow herself to finish that thought. _

She had felt drawn to the crater for the past six weeks, and everybody always had a reason to keep her away. But the feeling had not subsided. If anything, it was more intense due to the extremely vivid dreams. All of them included three crucial elements, the Hellmouth before Spike died, the crater after, and Spike. Only, Spike was completely different. 

The memory of the dream gnawed at the back of her brain, constantly, and no matter what she did, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something important. No matter what she was doing, or where she was, the dreams weren't far from her thoughts.

Maybe Giles was right, maybe going to the crater wasn't her best option at the moment. But there was no reason she couldn't go to LA. Angel had a whole word of knowledge at his fingertips, and a huge staff to research any obscure point of knowledge she would need. It would be a good place to start, anyway.

And it would be good to take a break. Finding, organizing, and training the girls just wasn't any fun. Beating and killing things, that was fun. But ever since the final battle in Sunnydale, she's been pulled from active duty. They didn't want her to patrol anymore, no matter where they were at or what they were doing. _Boring was not a strong enough word. _

The question of the year seemed to be _what do we do now, Buffy_? Buffy didn't know the answer, but she pretended she did. She would have to find a place to settle down soon, so Dawn could finish high school. She would still have to find a job somewhere, maybe even start a career. She _should go back to school. Of course, she couldn't do any of this without money. She didn't have money. She didn't have anything. Fortunately, Xander, Giles, and Wood had some money saved away that could be used to buy at least a change of clothes. Buffy felt very uncomfortable taking their money, but it was that or starve. _

Buffy hated that she had to rely on them, and she hated that it looked like she would have to ask Angel to pull some strings for her so she could get a job. She shouldn't have to depend on them like that, she was supposed to be an _adult. But she still felt as though she had no real life-skills to speak of. Being super strong was nice, but it didn't help when it was time to live in the real world. To have that normal life. _

A normal life? She didn't have the necessary equipment to deal with a normal life. Buffy figured it was all a giant joke, and the last laugh was on her. She was told all her life, by _everybody_, that what she really wanted was to be _normal and she had totally agreed with that. Now she had her chance, it wasn't all that it had been cracked up to be. _

Buffy got out of bed, and grabbed her suitcase. She knew that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and she wanted to get an early start. Fortunately, there wasn't much to pack. She would stop on the way to LA to pick up Dawn, who was helping Xander find a Slayer in Salt Lake City. Then she and Dawn could make a plan for their future, and she could rehearse the speech she would give to Angel. 

And when she wasn't worried sick over her future, she'd begin researching what was up with Spike.

~*~

Spike was sitting in Angel's office, perusing an ancient book about the afterlife when the phone rang. He ignored it and Angel completely until he heard his name. Spike looked up, and Angel was gesturing at him to pick up the second phone. 

"Are you sure?" It was her voice, and it hit like a boot to the groin. 

"I am," Angel lied. "Why?"

"I just have a feeling. I keep dreaming about him. Slayer dreams." 

"Anything specific?"  
  


"Yes, no, I don't know. Look, I'm going to pick up Dawn and come for a visit. You cool with that?"

"Sure. Is this just about Spike?"

She sighed, "No. It's not. Gotta get my life together. Time to be a grown up." 

"I'll help…"

She interrupted him, "We'll talk about it when I get there. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

"We have plenty of room. See you in about a week then?"

"If not sooner."  
  


"Great."

"Thanks Angel."

"No problem."

_Click_. 

They sat in silence for a very long time. Finally Angel broke it. 

"You should have called her." 


End file.
